


Miscalculations

by Gemi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Robot AU, a ton of cursing and namecalling, android!Simmons, café owner!Tucker, does it count as a café au?? coffeeshop au?? maybe, hobo robot simmons gets uh kinda saved by tucker i guess, rarepair is my jam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/pseuds/Gemi
Summary: “Are you a sex robot,” Tucker says, and the robot goes from looking unsteady but regal to flustered. Steam exit the vents in its neck; it snatches its hands away from Tucker’s shoulders and yelps and backs into the brick wall behind it.“No!” it squeaks out, so loudly it’s basically a dog whistle.Tucker grins.





	Miscalculations

He has kicked out the last customer, flipped the Closed sign into activation mode and then Tucker goes to throw away today’s garbage, except there’s a goddamn robot in the way of the door. It’s  _ blocking _ the door, too, and he curses as he tries to shove it open.

 

“Dude, rust bucket,” he snaps and sticks one arm through the small gap he managed to force open. He tries to smack the robot, but his fingertips barely even brush its shoulder. Tucker groans. “ _ Move _ it. I need to throw this shit. Fuck, you better not be offline!”

 

It wouldn’t be the first time someone dumped a busted robot in the alley behind his diner. Not the first time, but it would still  _ suck _ if he had to go through the front door and walk around the whole place to get to the garbage bin. That shit was for losers. Besides, today had taken forever and he just wanted to go up to his apartment and die in bed or something equally lazy. Sometimes Grif had the right idea. 

 

But to his luck, the robot wasn’t offline. It makes a groaning sound and inches away from the door until, finally, Tucker can open it.

 

“Thanks,” he huffs, stomping past it to throw away the day’s trash. He slams the bin shut and turns around to glare at the robot. Except it’s a  _ weird _ robot, and Tucker stares instead.

 

Most robots look like  _ robots _ . They have a blank screen as a face  _ at most _ , where they can make cute little emoji faces to show how nice and friendly they are. They’re clunky and weird and Tucker doesn’t  _ mind _ them, but they have always been too expensive for him to bother getting one for the diner.

 

_ This _ robot doesn’t look like that. Its face is almost human- a masculine one -with lips and cheeks and a  _ chin _ and it looks more like a human wearing maroon armor than anything else. Very dented armor, because it got scratches and bumps all over. Its eyes- optics, what fucking ever- are offlined but even  _ those _ look high quality. 

 

Whatever it’s for, it looks way too expensive to be dumped behind Tucker’s business. His diner isn’t even the good part of the city. 

 

“Hey,” he says and pokes it with his foot, “hey, can you talk or something?”

 

“Stop that,” the robot replies, grumpier than Junior when Tucker tries to get him out of bed. Its eyes flickers back to life. Well, eye. One is a bright yellow color, but the other one seems to be busted beyond redemption now when Tucker is leaning in closer to stare. The glass of it is shattered, and that whole side of the robot’s face is kind of dented.

 

“So you  _ can _ talk,” Tucker says and reaches out to tap it. It vents out warm air and smacks his hand away before it can connect which, what the  _ fuck _ . Robots aren’t supposed to smack  _ anything _ . (unless told to, he adds in his mind with a snicker) 

 

“Don’t touch me,” the robot grumbles, its voice high pitched with static. Tucker grimaces.

 

“Dude, robots aren’t supposed to be rude.”

 

“I’m an  _ android _ , dipshit,” the robot replies, and holy shit it can  _ frown _ . What is its weirdo face made out of even? “I can be as rude as I want to.”

 

“Oh, you’re a  _ fancy _ robot. Got it. Then why don’t you get inside with me  _ before _ it rains and I can contact your owner and get a massive reward?” Tucker suggests, only half sarcastic. It  _ does _ look insanely expensive, and Tucker is pretty sure the thing got stolen and dumped out for being rude or something like that by now. 

 

The robot stares blankly up at him. Okay, so maybe it’s not as smart as Tucker thought.

 

“No,” the robot says.

 

Tucker raises one brow. 

 

“I have no owners,” it tells him, like a fucking liar.

 

“ _ Every _ robot got an owner, rustbucket,” Tucker points out, and he nudges it with his foot again, “either a private person or a company.”

 

“Not  _ me _ ,” it insists, smacking Tucker’s foot away. And then it gets up on unsteady legs, and Tucker automatically holds it steady as it sways, feels the robot grasp at Tucker’s shoulders to steady itself.

 

But holy shit, it’s a  _ tall _ thing. Tucker would like to say he is in the smaller average when it comes to heights (he’s not  _ short _ , no matter what Church says) and the robot towers over him. And now when it is standing up, he has to change his perception of it.

 

It does  _ not _ look like it’s wearing maroon, badass armor. It looks like it’s a topless adonis for some weird, high fashion magazine where they painted the model in metallic colors and added weird little details here and there.

The fucking robot got goddamn  _ abs _ , and it’s wearing  _ pants _ so what the fuck does it hide in  _ there _ ? 

 

“Are you a sex robot,” Tucker says, and the robot goes from looking unsteady but regal to flustered. Steam exit the vents in its neck; it snatches its hands away from Tucker’s shoulders and yelps and backs into the brick wall behind it.

 

“No!” it squeaks out, so loudly it’s basically a dog whistle. 

 

Tucker grins.

 

“Oh, you are  _ totally _ one.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ !” it insists, “I’m- I’m just a normal android! I got a  _ name! _ ”

 

“Uh-huh. What is that name? B00B-C0CK?” he snickers and adds; “Version 4.20, 69th generation?” 

 

“That’s a stupid serial,” the robot huffs, somehow totally missing what Tuckers just said, so it’s clearly stupider than it knows, “It’s S1M0-75. A hundred percent better name than whatever  _ you _ have!”

 

“Uh, no it isn’t.  _ My _ name is a  _ human _ name. You still only got a serial,” Tucker teases, before he points at the door, “C’mon, get inside. Whatever you are, I can’t leave you outside. Maybe you’ll find a cool name to use, too,” he adds. “Y’know, something I can fucking  _ pronounce _ . And I’m saying that.  _ Me _ .” 

 

“S1M0-75  _ is _ a cool name,” it defends but, somehow, it  _ does _ listen. Because it cautiously follows Tucker as he gets back inside, and only hesitates a little bit before it closes the door behind itself.

 

“Uh-huh, sure. To a nerd maybe,” Tucker replies and reaches around the robot to lock the door, because not  _ only _ busted robots end up in that alley. Also, the robot looks expensive as fuck and yeah, maybe it doesn’t belong to someone. But if it  _ does _ , Tucker isn’t going to just let it run off. “I’m not saying that shit out loud. Too long to bother.”

 

“Too long for your squishy, organic brain,” the robot mutters back.

 

“Bow-chicka-bow-wow!” 

 

“What- what does  _ that _ even mean?”

 

“You wouldn’t get it,” Tucker tells it, and then he points at the couch that he got in the corner of café, for all the hipster kids and maybe Grif the few times he gets in early. “I’m  _ not _ bringing you up to my apartment. I got a kid who wants to keep everything as a pet, if he sees you I’ll never be rid of you. So stay down here, don’t break anything and like… whatever, y’know? Just take your power nap here.” 

 

The robot stares at him blankly. There is still a bit of steam coming out of its vents, like it’s processing Tucker’s words. Or maybe it’s still trying to pretend that it isn’t a sex robot.

 

“Got it?” Tucker asks.

  
“Yes,” the robot replies, “But,” it continues, because its an  _ annoying _ robot, “I don’t  _ nap _ .”

 

“Yeah well you do  _ something _ to stay turned on! Bow-chicka-bow-wow,” he hurriedly adds, and then Tucker throws the towel he kept on his shoulder at its face, watching it fluster and bluster and smack it away as it stumbles backwards. 

 

He snickers when it falls into the couch, all gangly, weird limbs sticking out all over the place.

  
“Awesome, now stay. I’ll come down at, like, seven, so you better fucking still be here. Goodnight, rustbucket.”

 

“It’s S1M0-75!” it shrieks, “it’s a better name than whatever you have!”

  
“My name is Tucker and it’s the  _ best _ name.  _ Goodnight _ !” Tucker yells back, and slams the door shut behind him. He locks it too, for good measure. 

**Author's Note:**

> tbh felt a bit bad that I haven't updated stuff lately, so here! have an unfinished thing from rarepair week. I'll probably keep writing on it (chapter 2 is halfway finished) but my main focus is Pundamental. Thank you for reading and I'm sorry I'm so slow lately <3


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